BAECHU KIMCHI

...dissolve 1 cup of sea salt in 4 Litres of water...

BAECHU

or 'Nappa' cabbage, quartered, immersed in salt water
for 4 or more hours, until cabbage is softened

SOK

1 christophene pear, peeled
1 medium daikon, peeled
1 green apple
1 thumb of ginger
1 bunch green onion
8 bulbs of garlic
splash of rice vinegar
splash of nuoc mam
splash of sesame oil
2 tbsp brown sugar
juice and supremes of 2 lemons
juice and supremes of 1 grapefruit

a delicate julienne of all vegetables, thinly slice onions,
mince garlic; combine all with wooden spoon...

now is the time for an interlude, but keep returning to your
sok to mix and marry

when baechu is ready, rinse under cold water and squeeze dry;
lay out and stuff sok in~between the leaves; stuff into a impeccably
clean and judiciously chosen jar; cover with remaining liquid; store in the
sill of a basement window, shade from direct light with a painting of a
wolf, wait 5~7 days; see through time

dream

i was in france, paris exactly.

there was some confusion as to where I was staying, or coming and going,

the usual anxiety about underwear and airports and

stairways and

buildings that spoke old europe

but I was quite designed on

eating,

eating while I was in the cloven hoof of cuisine-

and me and my friends

found a bistro

a cafe

a restaurant

of flowing white linen and tiles

wood in small rooms

and surprisingly friendly but austere

french hospitality-

anyway,

I ordered the halibut, maybe the striped bass,

I know the difference but

anyway,

perfectly seared and served on a bed of wilted greens,

alongside came a tray, a dish of simmering red curry-

a coconut, chili and citrus potion-

and I thought:

"Perfection! Silent, expert service met with hot, fresh, simple cuisine!"

Struck and tasting, roved around garrulous and saw

the dish pit, the kitchen, the service station,

tiled and clean and organized like an operating theatre...

drifting away now...

inspired...

It was harrowing, I was killing deer.

I was killing deer, cooing to them, finding

a 'natural'  thing that

droopingly, with sad trust, drew them in.

I was unprepared for the rest, the explosion, and poetic twists.

(There was blood everywhere)

They were baked into pies and cakes

Mildew blossomed in the open air, again, red sheets

and memory and tans and so on.

The Fall had begun, and like any amateur,

I had my hand in it.

Snow and leaves sworled and bullshit racketed

around the windows and fell flat

it was the dance

and staring out I caught a reverie

so

carefully composing the blood

deftly in my fingers and under the crook of my arm

carried the head to the table...

(it is forever the end of October)